Watching and Waiting
by Erik deSoir
Summary: Harry just watches him what else can he do?


Title: Watching and Waiting

Author: Erik deSoir

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and to various publishers including but not limited to Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Bloomsbury Books. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended

Pairing: H/D

Warning: Something isn't quite as it seems indeed.

Note: Okay, it starts out like one of your usual I'm-dead-and-waiting-for-you-to-join-me-but-while-I'm-waiting-I'll-watch-you-destroy-yourself pieces. However, there is a little twist toward the middle/end. It may or may suit your tastes, but it suits mine. And, sorry, but I write what I want to, sooo, hope you like! But, if you don't, keep your flames to yourself.

I reach out to touch your cheek as you sleep, but snatch my hand back as if burnt. It didn't burn, of course, but at the moment my fingers would have grazed your once-glowing skin, I realized my actions, and my hand jerked back.

I try to sigh and end up shifting soundlessly on the sheets. I cannot tear my eyes from you.

I watch you as you make a cup of tea that both of us know will remain untouched. I am worried at your normal actions through your days. We both of us know you don't mean any of them, that you don't want to be making cups of tea or opening blank books. I reach out to touch you again; and I jerk my hand back just like always. Your eyes stray to where my hand was and blink in a fluttery motion.

It's when you turn away and I see your shoulders shaking that I realize how damning the act was. I want to rush to you and wrap my arms around you and hold you and tell you how much I love you. I don't, though. I just sit at the table and stare at your cup of tea.

Today you've gotten up early. I was already up, of course. I watch as you pull on your trousers and your shirt, as you mutter a quick cleaning charm and run your fingers through your hair. As you turn around, your eyes sweep over me, and I swear I feel a shiver run up my spine.

I hasten behind you to the kitchen, but you don't make a cup of tea today. Instead you shove a bit of toast in your mouth. It's the first thing you've eaten in weeks. I should be overjoyed that you're finally eating, but the look in your eye is starting to unnerve me.

For the first time in I can't remember how long…You've left the house. I am at an utter loss at what to do. I wander through the house. I touch nothing.

I make my way back to the bedroom. I gently settle myself against the headboard and run my fingers over the bedspread. It's a blue colour that I always liked. It was our little secret that my favourite colour is blue.

I do not know how much time has passed when I hear the front door open and close quietly. I smile because I know you are home.

I get up and rush to see you. The sight that greets me, however, is not a pleasant one.

It's been a few weeks, I think, since you bought that thing. How you ever found out about cellular phones I will never know. You've only made one call on it, and I wonder what it was about.

You've been eating regularly since then, too. And drinking your cups of tea. You've been getting a full-night's sleep every night. You take care of yourself better, too, picked up on your old grooming habits. I am unsure of how to feel about it.

They've set up cameras, real Muggle cameras! in every one of my favourite rooms. They are walking all over the Manor like they own it. They ran their hands over my blue bedspread. It makes me shake, with rage or fear I can't tell.

All the lights are out and they are walking around the Manor. You aren't anywhere. You've left me here with them, gods, and I hate you for it.

They carry cameras and objects I don't the names or functions of. I miss you.

I pass them occasionally and they get excited, pointing into the screens of their instruments.

I end up in the bedroom, curled up in a corner of the room. Two of them have taken the bed hostage. I want to cry, to scream with wrath, to make them leave.

The next day you come back for lunch. You sit with them and chat. They tell you they have a little bit of evidence and that they'd like to stay another night. You agree to let them stay in the Manor as long as they like, there are plenty of extra rooms for their needs.

You had two cups of tea today.

You leave earlier today. Another restless night for me, I guess.

I find myself wandering aimlessly through the Manor. I stop by the bedroom, but the two men are there again, and I don't feel like watching them touch my blue bedspread. I pass by two of them and they call out to me. I don't answer.

A woman is with them and she intrigues me. She is a very gentle soul, and she calms me. The men frighten me, but I find myself following her more than the others.

I reach out and touch her hair. She turns quickly and sees through me to her male companion. She hisses something to him and he shakes his head. She reaches a hand out; it goes through my chest.

She calls to her companion and he shoves an instrument through my neck and I get angry.

I rush at him and pass through him. He stumbles back and grabs at his chest. It satisfies me for now. I keep close to the woman. She turns, and I move out of her way.

She hums in the low voice, 'Harry?'

I frown. How does she know my name? I don't like this. The male is crowding me and I feel a weight on my chest. I pass through him again on my out of the room they occupy. I hear them muttering excitedly.

The next day at lunch you sit with them again. You look so regal sitting at the head of the table in your slacks and white sweater. They all look like a fat bunch of dunderheads next to you.

They tell you they have enough evidence to look over and would you mind if they just use the rooms a few days more? You wave your hand at them is if that was a stupid question, of course they may stay, as long as they have need.

You are walking around the bedroom. Every once in a while you touch your fingers to the blue bedspread and sigh. You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. A few tears leak out. I want to touch you, let you know it is all okay.

You look up and your eyes stray to the window.

I look at your profile and remember how much I loved you. How much I love you still. How much time has passed.

Your angled face has faded from chiselled, classical handsomeness to that of an old man, wrinkles betraying your age. Your blonde hair has faded a little to the colour of corn silk. Your silver eyes aren't as bright as once they were, more the colour of a dull rain cloud.

Though you aren't stooped, you don't stand quite as tall once you did. Your fingers, still resting on the blue bedspread, are a little more crooked and a few age spots show through the glamour you throw over yourself every day.

You sigh and your eyes find me. I smile. Your eyes go back to the window.

I shift against the wall I'm leaning on, but make no other move.

You sigh again and begin talking, 'Hermione's funeral is today. She died in her sleep two nights ago. Ron came over and told me in person. I was so shocked he would show me such a courtesy.'

I shift again and fold my hands over my chest.

'I feel like my time is coming to a close, too. Some days I don't feel like getting out of bed. I'm sure you've noticed.' You laugh a little and continue, 'I can feel you near the bed, hovering always, waiting for me to get up.'

You walk toward me and I tense up, afraid you're going to try to touch me. You just look at me, squinting your eyes. You reach a hand out, but it falters before it comes into any kind of contact.

You turn and walk toward the window. You sit on the sill and start to speak so quietly I have to lean forward to catch all the words, 'Remember when I called those people in? I'm sure you do.'

I frown and move to the other side of the sill to see the expression on your face. I'm surprised to see a deep frown and the small wrinkle on your forehead in creased.

You reach up and touch the window. 'I had to know I wasn't crazy. I'm sorry. I should not have done that.' You look up, but not toward me. 'I should not have done that. I should have just… I don't know. They were so horrible. I hated being away from the Manor for so long.'

I stretch a hand out and, after so many years, brush it against your hair. Your eyes close, and I can tell you are struggling to keep the tears inside. My hand drops. Your eyes don't open.

I leave the room. I go into the kitchen and sit at the table. I wonder what will happen now.

We attended your funeral. It was a lovely service. It was the sort of day the clouds play tag with the sunshine.

When your body entered the ground, I looked over at you and gave you a smile. You returned it, just as dazzling as nearly a century and a half ago.

In a shadowy copse two bright figures could be seen walking amongst the trees. They lean their heads toward each other so often, and small tittering laughs float along breezes to anyone listening.

The figures begin chasing each other around the trees and finally burst out of them, laughter ringing through the night air. One catches the other and holds it. It looks like one figure for a moment.

Slowly the two figures turned one begin to fade from sight. A small sigh of longing happiness could be heard to anyone listening closely enough.


End file.
